Listen closely, dear one, to this profound truth. This house you see before you, and the very space within it—know that I, you, and all that exists, in truth, are nothing but space itself. Everything, without exception, is pervaded by this subtle, boundless expanse. To understand this, consider the means by which we seek knowledge: our dreams, our associations, our intentions, and our direct experiences. These serve as lamps, illuminating our path toward understanding. Within the Brahmin’s house, within its very heart, dwells the twice-born soul. And within that soul, the entire earth—with its oceans, forests, and all its wonders—exists, just as a bee nestles within the petals of a lotus. Now, within some tiny cavity, in a minute recess of that earth, a city appears—so subtle and small, it is like the tip of a hair floating in the vast sky. And within this city, slender one, stands your own house. How, then, can such a multitude—like a herd of elephants—find space within something so minute? Know this: in every single atom, consciousness abides. Within each, countless worlds exist. Who could ever hope to count them all? On the eighth day, O Supreme Lady, that Brahmin died. Yet for us, many years have passed. How can this be? Just as space has no real extension, so too, time has no true expansion. Listen as I explain this mystery as it truly is. This world and its creation appear only as projections of consciousness. In the same way, what we perceive as moments and cycles of time are nothing but projections of consciousness. The creation of the world, the passage of moments, the cycles of time, and the birth of beings—all arise from consciousness alone. Listen now, dear one, to how this unfolds. A living being experiences a single moment, and then, through the illusion of death and revival, passes on. Yet, with a mere opening of awareness, even in the expanse of space, it assumes the very form of space itself. It thinks, “I am established here, I exist here,” and sees, “This body with hands and feet is mine.” In the very instant it thinks of the body, it also thinks, “I am the son of this father; these are the years I have lived.” “These are my beloved relatives; this is my pleasant dwelling. I was born, I was a child, and now I have grown to be as I am.” All those relatives, too, continue to move about as before. Because of the unity of the dense space of consciousness, they exist within his own self. Thus, even before these names arise in the forest of worldly existence, nothing at all has appeared or become established—only pure, boundless space remains. Just as in a dream, consciousness is both the seer and the seen, so it is in the waking world—there is only consciousness, always undivided. Therefore, in a dream, the experience of seer and seen is nothing but consciousness. In dreams, in visions of other worlds, and here in this world, consciousness arises in the same way. Among these—dream, other world, and this world—whether they seem real or unreal, there is not the slightest difference, just as waves are not different from water. Therefore, this universe is unborn and indestructible. Like space, it does not truly exist as a separate reality; what appears is only consciousness. Even when objects seem to be present, their true nature is the supreme sky—spacious, unbounded. Since all objects arise from this, nothing exists apart from it, just as waves arise from water. In truth, even the state of being a wave does not truly exist, like the horns of a hare. It alone appears as objects, yet by its nature, it is never lost. Therefore, there is truly no object to be seen—so how can there be a seer and a seen? In just a moment, immediately after the delusion of death in a living being, the splendor of the perception of the three worlds arises as a mere appearance. According to place, time, initiation, sequence, arising, mother, father, lineage; according to age, awareness, location, intention, kin, servant, and the waxing and waning of effort—the consciousness-body perceives: “I am born, though never actually born,” along with place, time, action, substance, mind, intellect, and senses. At the very instant after death, the body perceives youth: “This is my mother, this is my father, I was a child, I am this,” thus it thinks. Whatever sequence is made of memory—whether experienced or not—later arises for him, like fruit growing from a flower. It may be felt that everything passes in a single blink of the eye, yet for King Harishchandra, a single night endured for twelve years. For those separated from their beloved, a single day becomes a year. “I died, I was born, another is my father”—such experiences occur even in the realm of dreams. Even for what has not been enjoyed, the thought of enjoyment arises; and when something has been enjoyed, the thought of not having enjoyed it appears—this is seen among gamblers and the like. Emptiness becomes filled, adversity equals celebration; separation and gain are alike in the awareness of intoxication, dream, and similar states. Just as sharpness resides in a mustard seed, or as one’s own pillar, or a web of toy children constructed within, so too is this visible world not other than that subtle essence. Thus, for the one who is unborn and peaceful, for whom is bondage or liberation, and from where, and what are they? Worlds appear swiftly after the delusion of death, just as all forms arise for the living when the eye opens. These worlds are composed of directions, time, calculation, space, nature, and action—countless manifestations, enduring until the end of a cycle. Even what has not been experienced or seen, though I may claim to have done it, becomes a memory in an instant, just as one’s own death appears in a dream. Thus, this endless illusion shines in the sky of consciousness; the city called the world is a mere projection, without any real walls. The sense of “I,” the world, and the memory of creation all arise, produced solely by the repeated practice of distant imagination and its reversal. Thus, knowledge is twofold: of what is experienced and what is not; at first, it acts as the cause, but in essence, it is consciousness alone that operates. In this way, dear one, all that is seen and unseen, all that is experienced and remembered, arises from the boundless, luminous space of consciousness.